Homecoming
by Fanwoman
Summary: The world had changed, but they'd had faith Jericho would remain the same. After a long journey, their homecoming is nothing like they'd expected. Oneshot. DaleSkylar friendshippy


SPOILERS: through Federal Response

NOTES: At times, my muses are peculiar creatures. Once this idea flitted through my brain, they latched on and ran with it. I never would have thought I'd become this involved with _Jericho_, let alone with one of the B-plot chracters...though, if you think about it, Dale is one of the most appealing of the lot when it comes to humanity and morality and such. Anyway, I don't necessarily think this is what will happen, but I hope all eleven of you other _Jericho_ fans here on ffnet enjoy it, even if it's not about Jake.

DISCLAIMER: _Jericho_ and all things associated with it belong to other people

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HOMECOMING 

Victoria had been married to Charles for twenty years, known him for twenty five, but she had learned more about him in the last four weeks than in all of the time before. Never had she loved him more.

New York had been a mess, but not the riotous, dangerous mess she would have thought. It was as though 9/11 had seasoned the people of the Big Apple, and having been spared the disaster that had struck so many major cities, New Yorkers were ready to help the rest of the traumatized East Coast, including stranded people like her and her husband. While it had cost them nearly every valuable they'd possessed to buy an old Impulse from a used car dealer, they had never wanted for food or shelter while they'd made their way within the slow exodus--some fleeing the city in fear of an attack, some leaving to help other parts of the country.

Once away from the city, she and Charles had worked as a team, taking shifts driving and working for the precious gas they needed to get across the country. Sometimes, it was hard work, like mucking stables or harvesting produce. Other times, they would help in a community kitchen or caring for children or the elderly while overworked teachers and nurses took much needed breaks. They'd been taught to milk cows and can tomatoes, to catch and clean fish and rabbits. Despite the often simple fare, food had never tasted so good. They grew to have an expansive knowledge of card games and gained an appreciation for country music. And they'd learned how to shoot.

Along the way, they'd ascertained from the flow of people which cities to avoid, which had been hit. Most small towns were welcoming, eager for two willing pairs of hands and news of the rest of the country. Some were unfriendly, guarding against strangers. Others were lawless. Although they'd been shot at three times and forced to scare off some unruly teenagers once, they'd never had to fire the old rifle they'd received from a farmer in central Pennsylvania in exchange for a day's work and the last of the tinned oysters they'd brought from New York. It was a good thing they'd never needed it; they were both terrible shots. Charles blamed it on not being able to wear his contacts for lack of solution, so she'd reassuringly tease him that women made better marksmen.

On nights when they'd felt safe and had a room to themselves, they'd somehow found the energy to make love with a passion they hadn't experienced in years. During rainstorms, while hiding in barns or office parking structures, they would console each other's fears and sorrows but seldom spoke of their child, as though it were taboo. Dwelling on that possible loss would make their arduous trek across the country pointless. Besides, they'd heard nothing of the Midwest, but they'd known Philadelphia, Chicago, Boston and Atlanta had been hit. They had friends in each city, and no way to contact any of them--the only telecommunication anyone had received since the attack was a recorded message from the DHS. Then there was the counterstrike, the night when missiles filled the sky, headed from the Heartland to some unknown destination. Oddly, they'd been reassured by it, not that the military was retaliating but that there was still a Heartland from which to launch missiles.

Despite the general anxiety and weariness, it had been a remarkable journey of personal discovery. They could have spent the night with a farmer outside Fairview, but once they were in Kansas, they couldn't stop. Having been on the road for over a month, at last, they had made it home.

That Jericho had electricity surprised them; there had been few places with power. Living in a more isolated part of town, they saw few people as they drove through, though the sun was just beginning to rise. Those they did see gave them confused and suspicious looks as their unfamiliar car with New York plates cruised by. Other than that, and the unkempt condition of everyone's lawns, Jericho looked much as it had when they'd left.

After entering their gate code and waiting for it to open, they made their way slowly up the drive, each silently appreciating the wondrous gift of coming home. The grass needed a good mowing, but it was the least of distractions as they gazed at the sprawling glory of their estate. They took their time, parking outside and walking to the front door, each caught up in their own welling emotions. The feelings in her heart were so strong that they nearly hurt. How many times had she wondered if they'd ever make it home? As much as Victoria wanted to rush in and see their daughter, there was no need to hurry this long-awaited moment. After all, Skylar was probably staying at a friend's place; she was too social a creature to manage weeks alone in their big house.

Before typing in the house's security code, Charles swept her into a lengthy kiss. When their lips parted, he whispered, "Welcome home."

Hand in hand, they threw open the front door, but as soon as they entered, there was a blur of threatening motion that caused Victoria to gasp and Charles to shield her in his arms. In a flash, the moment was over, and she found herself looking up into the wide, blue eyes of a curly-haired boy who seemed vaguely familiar. Lowering the bat he'd nearly hit them with, he murmured in awe, "Mr. and Mrs. Stevens?"

"Yes." Charles loosened his protective hold, his fear turning instantly to anger. "Who the hell are you?"

"And why are you in our house?" Victoria's thoughts immediately turned to her daughter.

The boy held out his hand to Charles with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm Dale." When her husband didn't return the gesture, the boy's smile faded, and his expression grew blank as he absently swung the bat over his shoulder with a makeshift strap of rope and duct tape. "Sorry, I didn't know..." His apology changed track. "I help Skylar." Briefly, the corners of his mouth quirked up. "She'll be excited to see you. She thought..." The unfinished sentence caused him to look away, his eyes growing distant. Then he blinked and shrugged. "She never gave up hope."

Charles' tone was slightly threatening, Victoria's encouraging, but they spoke with one voice. "Where is she?"

"She's asleep in her room," he explained in his quiet, unperturbed voice. "This way."

Charles and Victoria exchanged uncertain looks as the boy turned and guided them up the stairs, apparently unaware of how surreal it was to be lead through their own home like guests. They'd appreciated the virtue of many unusual living arrangements as they'd made their way across the country, but to come home to one was something else. Victoria did her best not to let their disquieting introduction color her judgment. After all, this young man's intention had been to defend their home and Skylar.

In front of their daughter's door was a sleeping bag, which the boy hastily moved out of the way. Then he knocked. "Skylar, you should get up; there're people here to see you."

"I don't want to see anyone." The early hour wasn't enough to explain the dull surliness that made her daughter's voice barely recognizable. "Tell them to go away."

"But you'll want to see _these_ people." He offered them another, hesitant, close-lipped grin. "It's your mom and dad."

There was a moment of silence followed by hasty footsteps. Dale moved aside as the door burst open and Skylar stepped out, gaping at them. She seemed oblivious to the fact she was wearing pajamas in front of a young man. "Mom?" She spoke as though she didn't trust herself to believe. "Dad?" Then she was practically strangling them with a needy hug. "Oh, my god," she breathed, "Oh, my god, you're finally home."

"Yes, honey, we're home," choked Charles.

Victoria found herself too overwhelmed to speak. She had spent so long not letting herself consider the hope of holding her daughter that the reality of it was almost too much to bear.

After a minute of touching and laughing and crying, Skylar managed to say, "Dad, why don't you have a beard?" Beards had become more common since the first attack, especially for men who were traveling.

"I used the car to recharge my electric razor."

"Such vanity!" Skylar mocked her father with one of his common condemnations.

Charles lifted his chin, as if he were above reproach, though his grin spoiled the effect. "We recharged the phones, too...not that it did us much good."

"And the razor _did_ help," added Victoria. "People were much more inclined to trust a clean-shaved stranger with a wife."

"I'd wondered if you'd grow one." Their daughter's eyes began tearing up.

"Charles, why don't you give us a few minutes so Skylar can change?"

"Of course." He gave their daughter another hug then let her go. "You two take your time."

Tugging on Victoria's hand, Skylar paused. "Dale, let's do something special for breakfast."

Consumed with her own happiness, Victoria had momentarily forgotten about the odd young man who had greeted them with a bat. He'd been leaning against the wall, head tilted back, until Skylar spoke. Then he straightened, offering a quirk of his lips and a nod. "Sure."

Skylar's room was a mess, with a stale odor that was a cross between unwashed clothes and a lack of fresh air. Kicking the door closed, Skylar mumbled, "Sorry for the mess," and began stripping as she made her way to her bathroom. "I don't always feel like cleaning by the time I get to my room." Given the pristine condition of the rest of the house, it was almost understandable, but there was a sense of despair about the place. From the bathroom came the sound of running water, but it was the sink, not the shower. "We're only allowed to use the water heater three times a week," she added, as though that explained everything.

Sitting on the bed, Victoria noticed the fabric beneath her hand was not quite right. Glancing down, she wondered aloud, "Is this a table cloth?"

"Yeah, some jerk stole my sheets off the line, so I've had to improvise until we wash some more." Victoria resisted the urge to ask where they'd strung up a laundry line. Air-dried laundry had become a necessity, and she'd grown fond of the smell. "It's the second time it's happened. I dry all my favorite small stuff inside, now." Thrusting her hand out of the bathroom door, her fingers were a scant measure apart. "I swear, I've been _this_ close to getting a dog." It was quite the statement, given how Skylar loved her father, who was allergic to the animals.

"Is that why Dale uses a sleeping bag?"

That got her daughter to stomp out, hair dripping, arms akimbo in indignation. "Was he guarding my room?"

Victoria shrugged, not wanting to cause the boy grief. "It seemed that way. He met us at the door with a bat."

Throwing her hands in the air with a huff, Skylar retreated to the bathroom. "Dale has trust issues. Unfortunately, they're not a bad thing to have these days."

"What do you mean?" Dread stirred in her gut. Was there worse than stolen laundry?

"Don't worry. I'll explain later."

Victoria could tell that was all she'd hear of that subject for now, so she pursued the primary subject of interest. "In that case...tell me about Dale."

"What do you want to know?" Her daughter's voice was surprisingly nonchalant.

"Where he's from, why he's here, what the situation is between you two..."

Emerging from the bathroom with her hair in a towel, Skylar rolled her eyes at her mother. "If you're worried about..." She made a vague gesture with her hands and gave the bed a meaningful look. "Don't be. Only an idiot would risk a thing like that at a time like this. Besides, we're not like that."

"But he seems very..."

"Protective?" Skylar rummaged through her walk-in closet for clothes. "Yeah, well, we look out for each other. The day after the bombs, he knew I was home alone and brought me stuff to protect the house from the fallout rain. Then, when his place burned down, I offered him the guest room. He works at Gracie Leigh's store, and he's _much_ better at taking care of himself than I am--cooking, cleaning, you name it."

That was all nice to know, but... "What about his parents?"

Dressed, Skylar stepped from the closet, her tone becoming quiet and serious. "His mom was in Atlanta. She was leaving a message when the bomb hit..." Sitting beside Victoria, her daughter gave her a hug. "He plays it, sometimes, when he thinks no one's around. It's so awful to hear. I've had nightmares that it was your voice..."

For a long moment, they stayed like that, holding on, reassuring each other that they were all right. When they pulled apart, pride swelled in Victoria as she brushed damp locks from her child's face. "It was very kind of you to take him in."

Skylar laughed and rubbed at her watery eyes. "Oh, in some ways, it was selfish. I wouldn't leave, and having him around made me feel..."

"Like you weren't alone?"

"Yeah, and safe." Her smile grew abashed, as though she were confessing something embarrassing. "He makes me feel safe."

Pulling her daughter into another hug, Victoria assured her. "That's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm glad you weren't alone."

Sniffling, Skylar stood, towing her mother with her. "Enough of this. We should go down so I can help Dale with breakfast. Sometimes, he leaves in the morning without eating. Can you believe it?" Victoria had to hold back from pointing out that her daughter also had that habit.

On their way down the stairs, Skylar noticed the car out front and asked, "You drove here in _that_?"

The only two-door they had ever owned was Charles' Porsche, though the Insight was arguably more comfortable.

Victoria couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, we did, and it was quiet the trip!"

"I haven't even asked you about how things were!"

"There's no hurry, sweetheart. Frankly, I'd rather hear more about Jericho."

"Okay, but don't you want to get cleaned up, first?"

"I think we can wait until after breakfast."

They entered the kitchen to find Charles making coffee.

Pulling out a big electric griddle that had been in storage for years but seemed to be in recent use, Skylar wondered, "Dad, is Dale getting cleaned up?"

"No, honey. I sent him home."

Victoria's heart lurched.

"_Home?_" Eyes wide, their daughter turned on him, her tone having changed from absent inquiry to incredulity.

"I thanked him, but-"

"His mom's dead, and his house burned down weeks ago." Skylar's face was flushed with fury. "This _is_ his home, now!" With that, she whirled to pound down the hall and out the front door.

Victoria followed her husband to the entry, where they paused to watch their daughter sprint across the lawn, calling the young man's name with unreserved anxiety.

It stung that Skylar could think her father would casually turn an orphan onto the streets. "He didn't...?"

"No," answered Charles, clearly confused. "Not a word."

With his bat and sleeping bag attached to an all but empty backpack, Dale was nearly to the treeline on the far side of the front yard. Shoulders hunched, he stopped and turned his head, but there was no reading his expression from that distance. Despite her imploring cries, once Skylar reached him, she seemed stiff with anger. Grabbing his elbow, she jerked him around to fully face her, gesturing with hasty jabs of her arms--first to the house, then to herself. Bowing his head, he nodded then shrugged, and Skylar's arms spread wide, shaking with frustration. The tableau changed as the fire left her daughter's posture and she said something that caused Dale to look up quickly and raise his hands, as though warding off blame. Lowering his hands, he shook his head and leaned closer, a subconscious expression of restrained comfort.

Suddenly, Skylar threw herself at the boy, wrapping her arms around his neck. Surprise warred with relief as Charles gasped beside her. Victoria was surprised because Skylar had never been a particularly grabby girl, not even as a child, but the relief was due to the young man's confusion. He had plainly not expected this to happen, and his awkwardness was a clear indication that he had never been intimate with her daughter...or anyone else's, for that matter. Slowly, the boy's arms rose, and he returned Skylar's embrace, burying his head in the crook of her neck and holding on as if his life depended on it. Voyeurism-tinged dread seeped into Victoria as she felt the potency of this moment, even from so far away.

She and Charles had thought Skylar safe in Jericho, that life here would continue without much change. But they'd returned to find their home guarded by a boy with a bat, their previously shallow daughter having invited a homeless stranger to live with her. What had happened to cause such change, and why did those two cling so desperately to each other?

Charles voiced her thoughts. "What the hell happened while we were gone?"

The intense moment ended as Skylar pulled away from the boy. His hand began reaching for her face before falling self-consciously to his side. He said something, and her daughter nodded with a laugh, wiping at her eyes.

Deciding she'd seen enough, Victoria reached for her husband's elbow and tugged him toward the living room while closing the door behind them. "Let's give them a minute. I'm sure we'll hear all about it eventually."

Charles huffed at this. "I wouldn't be so certain."

"What do you mean?"

"If he wouldn't mention details as vital as being a homeless orphan..." He sat with a shrug.

Victoria joined him on the loveseat, momentarily savoring the simple pleasure of sitting in her own home before continuing. "Well...what _did_ you talk about?"

"Why he was here." At a raised eyebrow from Victoria, he elaborated. "Seems he felt an empathy with Skylar because both of them were alone. He said there'd been some vandalism and break-ins, but Skylar wouldn't leave. So when she offered him a place to stay, he thought his being here would be a deterrent, hence the bat."

"She says he's helped her since the beginning."

"They're not...?" Like his daughter, he made a vague gesture, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"No." Victoria thought it odd that he couldn't tell that from what they'd just seen. "But she does seem very attached to him."

"The reverse doesn't seem to be the case."

"How can you say that?" She leaned forward to look him in the eye. "You saw what he was willing to do to protect our daughter."

Charles shrugged. "He left without any argument, didn't he? It was almost as if-"

The door opened, and they could just hear Skylar's voice, which was unusually quiet as she instructed the boy to leave his backpack in the entry. When they walked in, Skylar looked from side to side until she spotted her parents. "Come on." She sounded all but normal, as though everything that had happened in the last few minutes was settled and done. "It's time for breakfast."

At Skylar's insistence, her parents sat at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching their daughter and the boy work effortlessly together in the kitchen. First, the two mixed a small glass of powdered milk, which they used for pancake batter. Plugging in the griddle, Dale started cooking pancakes and slicing up SPAM as Skylar set the table and made instant lemonade and a fruit salad of raisins, sliced almonds, freshly shredded carrot and a large can of mandarin oranges. Victoria and Charles were well aware of how precious all four ingredients had become. The whole time, their daughter kept up a running monolog about everything that had happened while they'd been gone, which was how they learned natural gas had become scarce enough that electricity and charcoal were used for most cooking. In contrast, Dale worked silently, seldom looking up from his tasks and speaking only when Skylar asked for affirmation or a forgotten detail.

Without needing to be told, the boy fried eggs the way each of them liked--sunny side up and over hard--causing Victoria to wonder how he knew such an intimate detail about people he'd just met. Catching her curious gaze, the corners of his mouth quirked up. "Skylar's talked about what she'd do when you got home."

Although he hardly had a confident air as he worked, Dale managed to have all the hot food ready at the same time. Skylar ordered her parents to the kitchen table and set their plates in front of them. After putting down the last two, Dale scanned the table and excused himself to the pantry, returning with a box of crackers and a tin of oysters, which he placed next to Charles. Victoria exchanged a puzzled look with her husband, then their daughter let out a strangled gasp. All of them turned to see Skylar struggling to hold back tears.

"I'm sorry..." began Dale, but Skylar shook her head with a tremulous smile.

"Don't be sorry!" She laughed. "It's not your fault I'm all...emotional right now."

"It's an emotional day, sweetheart." Victoria reached out to give her daughter's hand a squeeze.

"I know, but still..." Sitting up straighter, she beamed at Dale. "I can't believe I forgot about dad's oysters! Now it's perfect. Thank you."

There was a moment of tension, as though Skyler were forcing him to accept her appreciation. With a nod, he acquiesced. "You're welcome."

Apparently dissatisfied with the uncomfortable silence that hovered over the table, Charles got the ball rolling. "This all looks wonderful. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm famished." He reached for the pancakes and dished up a pair then speared a slice of grilled SPAM. Never had Victoria thought she'd see the day when her family would eat canned meat with enthusiasm.

Serving herself a piece of toast so she could properly enjoy her egg yolk, she had to ask, "Is this from the bread maker?"

"Yeah." Skylar nodded. "I started experimenting with it once we got the electricity back."

"How long have you had power?"

"On and off for about three weeks."

"Sometimes, the power goes out at night," added Dale. "That's why..." He turned his gaze to his plate with a shrug.

"You thought someone might be breaking in while the alarm was down?" finished Charles.

Dale glanced up and nodded. "Sorry."

"No harm, no foul. I'm sorry about..." It was Charles' turn to feel unsure. "...our misunderstanding. Let's try not to let that happen again, okay?"

Dale nodded while Skylar let out an annoyed huff. "Enough with the apologies. This is supposed to be a celebration. Let's talk about good stuff."

And so, Victoria and Charles shared various parts of their trip, astounding their daughter with the humble existence they had embraced and raising laughter with their many anecdotes, like the first time Charles had tried milking a cow. It really was a lovely meal, and Skylar made sure they knew that most of it came courtesy of Dale's job. By the end, the boy seemed more comfortable, though still uncertain of his place in their home. Victoria couldn't help wondering what had caused him to be so insecure.

Dale started on the dishes while their daughter cleared the table, but not before declaring her parents should relax at the counter and finish the coffee. Once Skylar was done bringing dishes to the sink, she turned off the faucet. "Dale, I'll take care of this." Her touch on his back caused him to look up, and she gave him an impatient smile. "You'd better get cleaned up, now, or you'll be late for work."

Without a word, something complicated passed between them, then Dale nodded and rinsed his hands before turning to Charles. "I think the Mayor'll want to talk to you, hear what you know about..." Glancing between Victoria and Charles, he shrugged. "...if you're up to it, today."

Impulsively, Victoria reached out and took the boy's wet hand in hers. "We'll talk to the Mayor then meet you for lunch, okay?"

There was a spark in his eyes. It might have been hope or fear or both.

Skylar bumped Dale's hip with her own in an attempt to get him out of the way. "Go on. You know how she gets when you're late."

Excusing himself, Dale left for the upstairs guest bath. Skylar kept washing dishes and asking them about their trip until they could hear the shower running. Then, she dried her hands and leveled her parents with a demanding stare. "I'm sorry I yelled, but I need to know that's not going to happen again."

"Honey, I didn't know," explained Charles.

Glaring at the ceiling, Skylar muttered, "I should have guessed that he wouldn't tell you. I had to practically pry it out of him, myself." With a sigh she lowered her gaze. "So you're okay with him living here?"

"We've only just met him..."

"But he's welcome to stay as long as he needs," finished Victoria, intent on quenching the spark of fire in her daughter's eyes.

"Victoria!"

"Charles, I've seen and heard enough to be happy with him in our home. If it's too soon for you to appreciate the emotional necessity of this, consider it from practical and moral angles. Do you think someone as shrewd as Gracie Leigh doesn't know a good thing when she sees it? A young man like that is a precious commodity in this day and age, and we could use the help. Besides, Dale needs a place to stay, and we have three times the room we need. Why not put some of it to good use?"

"I suppose..."

"After all the welcoming people who took us into their homes, how can you just 'suppose'?"

"Yeah," echoed Skylar, "how can you suppose?"

Raising his hands in defeat, Charles laughed. "I know when I'm outnumbered. Consider the matter settled."

"Thank you, dad." With her hands on the edge of the counter, Skylar lifted herself so she could lean far enough to kiss him on the cheek.

"You're welcome, honey." Tilting back, he raised an eyebrow. "Now what's this I heard about getting a dog?"

They chatted happily while Skylar finished the dishes and saw Dale off at the door. Once he was on his way, they emptied out the Impulse and got a tour of the house, with Skylar explaining all that had been modified out of need, which wasn't much, as well as ideas she and Dale had been considering. Then they gratefully took cold showers and changed into clean clothes. After driving all night, it required significant willpower not to collapse into their king sized bed, which still had sheets. Skylar explained the reason for this was because she hadn't been ready to use any of their stuff, yet, though she had lent Dale a few of Charles' old shirts until the boy had been able to replace some of what he'd lost in the fire.

Fed, cleaned and ready, they walked into town, stopping along the way when neighbors came out to greet them. There was a definite dichotomy in their part of Jericho. Those who were living in the present had invited house keepers and gardeners to live with them, drained their pools, set up laundry lines, started vegetable patches. But there were still some trying to live in the past, with their closed gates and pristine lawns.

The Mayor eagerly made time for them, and as they shared their story, they learned parts of the big picture Jericho was aware of which were news to them. At one point, the Mayor hesitated in his discourse. After a look to Skylar, he changed track, causing Victoria to exchange a curious glance with her husband. But, once they were done and had a moment to themselves, Victoria suggested Charles let it go; she'd talk to Skylar about whatever it was.

Their reception at Gracie Leigh's store was a bit odd. Like an angry hen, she all but pecked them into her cramped office, where she told them in no small detail what she expected of them in regards to their care of Dale. It was like being lectured by a teacher, but they managed to assuage her concerns. Once she was satisfied, the petite storekeeper let Dale leave early, an event that Skylar assured her parents was very rare.

They went to the only open restaurant in town and received mixed responses from the people around them as they sat together like a family. Having agreed to wait, Charles didn't ask about it. Although Dale seemed uncomfortable, Skylar held her head proudly and insisted the boy order something substantial. Victoria was amazed to find a green salad on the liberally edited menu, and while it wasn't spectacular, it was a refreshing change of pace.

After they'd eaten and walked Dale back to the store, Charles insisted he had to take care of a few things in town. While she was sure he did, Victoria knew her husband was hoping the long walk back would provide her the chance to get some answers out of Skylar.

As they came to a deserted stretch of road, she took her daughter's hand. "Are you ready to tell me what happened?"

There was no feigning of ignorance. "I'd rather not have to tell you at all." It was accompanied by a shrug.

"Would you prefer your father and I find out from someone else?"

After taking a deep breath, Skylar blurted, "David tried to rape me, and Dale beat him off."

She stopped dead in her tracks. Shock and anger fought to dominate her senses, but her voice remained calm. Skylar didn't need her anger so late after the fact. "David? The Millers' son?"

With a nod, her daughter continued without meeting her gaze. "Dale took me to Linda's house then used a sheet to drag David to the hospital. It was a big mess."

"But...why?" Victoria could hardly wrap her head around it. "David..."

"When Dale started living with me, some people got the wrong impression. David told me that since I was sleeping with Dale..." It was frightening how her daughter could speak of it so calmly.

"That it was all right if he...?"

Skylar nodded again, brow furrowed. "So, even though Dale saved me..."

"He blames himself," concluded Victoria, her heart aching for her daughter and the young man who had become her guardian.

Pulling Skylar into a hug, she couldn't hold back the tears that stung her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

There was a half sob, half laugh. "I should have listened to Dale and stayed with someone from the start, but I didn't want to miss you when you came home."

"There's nothing wrong with having faith in people, sweetheart." Pulling back, she wiped the tears from her daughter's eyes. "How could you know anyone would do a thing like that?"

"It was so awful, mom." Skylar squeezed her eyes shut, as though to push out the memory.

"But you're okay?"

She received a nod in response.

"And Dale's okay?"

This got her a sniffle and a shrug. "Physically, yeah, but they were going to put him in jail, mom, all because David was the one who was hurt and his family's rich. I was so busy being miserable for myself that I didn't know, but Mrs. Leigh found me and took me to the Mayor and made me tell him what had happened. She didn't approve of us living together, or...well...me. But she helped us."

"What happened to David?"

"He's in jail. They make him work, sometimes." Skylar furrowed her brow again. "Dale won't talk about it, but I know David's friends have threatened him. I think they've been too scared of him to try anything, yet."

After giving Skylar another hug, Victoria held her daughter at arm's length until she got eye contact. "Now that your father and I are back, things should be all right."

Once she got a nod, she took her child's hand, and they started walking again. Several blocks passed in silence, broken only by the occasional wave to a friendly neighbor. Then Victoria could feel a change in Skylar's demeanor.

"Hmm?" she prompted with a squeeze of her hand.

"Sometimes, I don't know what to do with Dale." It was a combination of a confession and a request for advice.

"What do you mean?"

"He never cries or yells, no matter what happens to him, so I'm almost never sure what he's feeling or what he wants. And most of the time, you can't get him to tell you, even if you ask him pointblank." Skylar's free hand raised in frustration. "He acts like he doesn't deserve anyone's consideration. It's like...he wouldn't think to come in from the rain without a written invitation."

"He grew up very differently from you, sweetheart." The Mayor had mentioned that Dale had lived in the mobile home park, and Victoria had deduced the boy had been raised by a single mother. "He's probably not used to expressing his needs. You said, yourself, he's good at taking care of himself."

"There's being able to take care of yourself, and then there's stubborn pride. I had to practically _beg_ him to borrow dad's shirts!"

"He's lost everything, sweetheart. What else does he have but stubborn pride?"

Her daughter blinked at her. "I hadn't thought of it like that."

"From what I've picked up, he was pretty alone even before all this happened." As they strolled through their open gate and the mansion came into view once more, Victoria was filled with a deep sense of poignancy. There was no doubt in her heart that taking Dale in was the right thing to do. "Maybe what he needs most is a sense of family, to feel needed and wanted."

"Yeah." Skylar nodded. "I think you're right."

Together, they headed up to the house, intent on making it a home once more.


End file.
